


Through This Burning Land

by saisei



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Blind Character, Canon Disabled Character, Canon Era, M/M, Major Character Injury, Rape Aftermath, Skull Fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-11-12 15:31:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11164803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saisei/pseuds/saisei
Summary: Gladio finds Ignis after Ardyn's done breaking him.





	Through This Burning Land

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Empty Left](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10891443) by [Lagerstatte](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lagerstatte/pseuds/Lagerstatte). 



> This is a fill for the prompt http://ffxv-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/3451.html?thread=3800443#cmt3800443
>
>> I'll carry you through this burning land,  
> and when the water's gone,  
> we'll drink the sand  
> You know, I've got nothing left for the journey home  
> And I've run out of gods to burn  
> (https://tommcrae.bandcamp.com/track/the-only-thing-i-know)

The evacuation is a clusterfuck – buildings crumbling, the ocean flowing over floodgates, fighting in the streets. Bodies everywhere. Not fighting at Noct's side makes Gladio feel sickeningly off-balance, even though he knows he'd be in the way while Noctis and Luna do their thing. Noct needs him and Prompto and Ignis to save as much of Altissia from ruin as they can. At least when he's pushing his body to the limits he doesn't have time or energy to think about the bigger picture or worry about who's going to be dead by the time Leviathan retreats.

But then the astrals are gone and suddenly a shaky order starts to assert itself. Guilds and neighborhood associations look to their own, setting up shelters and tending to the dead, the injured, and the lost. Messages are passed via bells and criers: Luna is dead, they say, and Noctis as well. Missing children can be reported to the Number Three School; volunteers and supplies are needed to set up cook-stations and sanitary facilities.

Gladio digs people out of rubble and helps clear roads and canals, and when he finally makes contact with Prompto he's nearly out of his head crazy. Prompto sounds harrowed, but he tells Gladio to make his way to the Leville, where Noct is sleeping off the battle.

"You heard from Iggy?" Gladio asks, and he's hoping so hard for a yes that he holds his breath.

"Sorry, man," Prompto says. Maybe it's the crappy reception, but he sounds snotty, like he's been crying. "I don't know what to say. I've been trying, but..."

"Yeah." Gladio leans against a wall and closes his eyes. "Are the rumors right about Luna?"

"Please," Prompto says, voice tiny. "Just get here."

Gladio says goodbye and starts running.

He's jogging through a plaza that's now an open-air hospital when his eyes lock on a Crownsguard uniform, and he veers course, nearly doing a Prompto and falling over his own feet in his haste.

He has to swallow down hard to keep his lunch from making a replay when he confirms that the figure stretched out on the paving is Ignis. His face is unrecognizable. What isn't burned – blistered and in places charred – is caked in dried blood. One eye gapes empty and the other is cut up, swollen and oozing. Gladio is assaulted by shamefully petty thoughts. _His eyes_ , he thinks, _those beautiful eyes_. Ignis doesn't usually close his eyes when they kiss (or do other things). Gladio loves that about him.

He's trying to figure out what to do, looking around for whoever's in charge, when he realizes that Ignis is aware; not functional and hyperventilating with pain, but alert enough to know that someone's looming over him.

He drops down to a squat and says, "It's just me, Iggy. Sorry I took so long to find you." He wants to hold Ignis' hand, but the arm nearest him is bent unnaturally, and the other's been stabbed. The right leg's broken as well, and his left looks like it was half hacked off – the only injury that's been healed at all, as far as Gladio can tell. He wants to rage at the healers for doing a half-assed job, even though he knows that's unfair. "I'm gonna do what I can for you now, and then we'll go meet up with Prompto and Noct."

Ignis says something, a word that comes out raw and malformed, but Gladio knows him well enough to recognize a _no_.

In all their time working together – and their years of clandestinely being _together_ – Gladio's only called Ignis an idiot once or twice. Three times, tops. He's very tempted to do so now, though, because Ignis knows they have a duty to be with Noctis, and _this_ is when the most selfless man he knows is going to dig in his heels and refuse? Just because...

And Gladio's hands falter on the ties around his emergency kit. Yeah, he's not going to think down those lines, not now.

"Let me patch you up," he says. "We'll find someplace for tonight and see how things look in the morning." Ignis' breath catches, and Gladio winces. He could have phrased that better. "I got you. You can stop fighting now."

A shudder goes through Ignis, and then he sags like someone cut his power switch. Gladio could fucking _cry_ , but instead he stomps all those distracting feelings down and busies himself with healing what he can.

*

It's not enough. He even flags down one of the Altissian healers and begs her for help, but she just says what he's been trying not to think: magic can't bring back what's gone. She takes pity on him, though, and sends him to a friend of hers who might have a spare room and _some knowledge in this area_.

Turns out she means her friend's mostly blind, and Gladio wants to turn on his heel and leave. But it's getting dark and Ignis, cradled in his arms, is heavy as fuck. The woman – Unda – leads them to a tiny room under the eaves. She leaves and comes back with a kettle of steaming tea, and insists on having a look at Ignis' eyes.

Her fingers slide like a shadow over the scarring where seared flesh refuses to heal completely, and trace the hollow where his left eye had been. Her expression shows curiosity when she examines the right – the eye is still there, sort of. Bloodshot and swollen, iris and pupil clouded and scarred, but Gladio hopes that in a day or two it'll clear up. Right.

The woman shows him how to clean Ignis' eyes with pieces of cloth steeped in the tea. She has faith in her folk remedy, and Gladio wants to believe her.

*

Ignis runs a fever in the night. He wakes up whimpering and flinches away from touch like it burns. He falls back asleep once Gladio reassures him he's safe, but an hour or so later, the same thing happens. Gladio tries stretching out next to him, but that just pushes Ignis further into whatever bad place he's in. There's a straight-backed chair wedged behind the door, and he shoves it over by the head of the bed to sit in and keep watch. He barely sleeps himself, just cat-naps, his thoughts spinning around like a firework wheel and his ass going numb no matter how much he slouches.

*

In the morning, Gladio helps Ignis downstairs to use the bathroom and wash up. Prompto had sent a kid over with changes of clothes at Gladio's request, and he's glad to get Iggy out of his bloodsoaked rags. Ignis' one and a half boots get tossed in the rubbish. They wear the same size, more or less, so Gladio gives his up and wears the stupid cloth-top shoes Prompto sent. There's glass and shit all over the streets, and at least he can see where he's walking.

Unda makes a huge pot of fish-broth gruel; she's got a full house, at least two families with kids and an elderly couple. Gladio probably should feel bad about taking over a whole room for just the two of them, but he doesn't. He and Ignis take their bowls into the courtyard to eat. Ignis manages only a few mouthfuls before he sets the bowl down. The sun's warm, and he turns his face up, looking for the light.

Gladio doesn't think he finds it. At any rate, he lowers his face again, to stare straight ahead at the garden wall.

*

Gladio's paying for their stay with labor. He leaves Ignis in the courtyard while he helps fix up the half of the roof that got ripped off in the battle, and then there's a shit-ton of laundry to do and hang out. He sees Unda talking with Ignis; the next time he passes by the kitchen on his way up from the river with an armload of wrung-out sheets, they're washing up a mountain of dishes, and another kettle of tea is on the stove.

When the house linens are all done, Gladio scrubs the stains out of Ignis' uniform and tosses it over a bush to dry. Patching the holes and tears will have to wait until he has his sewing kit, but he thinks he'll be able to get it looking halfway presentable.

The market bells are just ringing noon when he's finally done, and Ignis looks listless, sitting off to the side while the children run around shrieking, waving sticks at each other. Maybe the fever's back again.

When Gladio goes to collect him, Ignis stands, using a hand braced on the wall for balance.

"Are we leaving now?"

Gladio scowls. "I don't know, Iggy, you tell me." Ignis just stares at him, tense and expressionless. "You gonna tell me what's got you so scared?"

Ignis sighs in annoyance – finally, a glimmer of his normal self – and then turns, trying to navigate the way to the door with one hand held out in front and small, hesitant steps. Watching is unbearable; Gladio's got no patience for this.

"Where are you going?" he asks, and when Ignis snaps _the room_ he grabs his hand and leads him there. At least that way Ignis doesn't injure himself all over again tripping on the steps or walking into the table.

Ignis shakes him off when they get to their room, and shuts the door behind them firmly. He feels for a latch, and frowns when he finds there isn't one.

Gladio leans against the wall, waiting for an explanation.

"Ardyn," Ignis says, and swallows. He finds the bed and sits, leaning forward over his crossed arms like he's trying to hold back a stomachache, and then word by disjointed word gives his report on just what Ardyn did to him. Partway through his composure cracks, and Gladio realizes he's crying. He's never seen Ignis cry before; yesterday he would've said it wasn't possible – not that Ignis is unfeeling, but he prides himself on his hard-learned habits of control.

Today, here they both are, with wet faces.

"I don't know what to do," Ignis finishes. He's shaking so hard the words are broken by his chattering teeth. "What am I going to do?"

"Can I hold you?" Gladio asks, half strangled by his own helplessness. His brain's obsessively trying to parallel their timelines, to figure out exactly what he'd been doing while Ignis was being tortured, and raped, and blinded, and left in the road to die.

Ignis' shoulders hunch in a tense shrug, and Gladio goes to sit next to him on the bed. He has no idea how you're supposed to touch someone who's been through that trifecta of rape-torture-blinding. He suspects Ignis takes care as confirmation that he's useless; caring is what _Iggy_ does. He puts his arm around the bow of Ignis' shoulders anyway and tugs him to his chest. He runs his other hand in slow steady strokes from Ignis' shoulder to elbow, pressing his cheek to his hair, and says all the stuff he usually doesn't, filling the air so full of words that Ignis will breathe them in and maybe believe them.

He says he loves him; that he's strong and Gladio's always respected him for his strength. That his service to Lucis – to Regis and Noctis – has always been unfailing and reliable, and he knows – knows from own painful personal experience – how hard it is to live always putting yourself aside. They both understood, when they learned Noctis was being sent out of the city, that they would fight to the death to protect him. They'll save him over each other, without hesitation.

And as long as they're both breathing, that holds true.

"It's not just my sight," Ignis says dogggedly. He's still as stiff as iron, though the shudders have given way to trembling, and Gladio can feel his trousers growing a damp spot from dripping tears. "I spoke with Unda, I can and will learn and adapt to... this. But I keep seeing him – that's _all_ I see – and it makes me wish I _had_ died. When we face him in battle, which we will, I have no idea how I'll react. Your father would have me hand in my uniform, you know he would."

"We'll be in Altissia a while," Gladio says, slowly. "Noct is still out cold. Luna is dead." Ignis' breath catches, and Gladio curses himself mentally for breaking the news like that. "And you know our King, he'll give you all the time you need. The one who'd step in and fight with him would be me. I don't think staying more than a couple weeks is safe."

"Wonderful," Ignis snaps. "My whole life is gone, I'll try and clear that up by the end of the month, shall I?"

"Ardyn doesn't have the power to take your life away." Gladio's perturbed by how much he needs to believe that.

"The way his dick took my eye, you mean?" Ignis uncurls one hand and holds it out. His nails have scored the palm with dozens of half-moon cuts. "Handkerchief."

Gladio digs his out of his pocket and hands it over.

Ignis holds it for a moment, and then huffs an unamused laugh, leaning into Gladio's side. "I can't touch my face," he says, and he sounds so young and confused Gladio recalls Noctis as a kid, also shattered in body and mind. "I've been trying, but I cannot – literally – raise my hands that far. They might as well still be broken."

"So let me," Gladio says. "I've got a pot of Unda's tea here, that she left for you."

"Ulwaat leaves, she said. To prevent infection." Fortified by that scrap of knowledge, Ignis sucks in a breath and sits up, offering the handkerchief back. Gladio soaks a corner of the cloth and puts one hand at the back of Ignis' head to hold him steady while he starts mopping up. "I used to imagine us having an apartment of our own, someday. After we returned, when Niflheim was defeated."

Gladio makes sure to get all the salt off Ignis' face, especially in the still-raw new scars and the corners of his right eye. He uses small patient strokes and a liberal amount of tea, and if Ignis needs to talk to distract himself, he'll play along. "So let's do that."

"You do know that we're going to die."

Gladio dips the cloth again and starts on the left eye. He's getting used to how it looks; maybe in another couple of days he'll adjust to this maelstrom of emotions as well. "Would be nice, though. You and me, we know each other like no one else can." And the sex was incredible, he can't help but remember, in a rush of shame and rage. _Damn_ Ardyn to all the demons. "I give the best foot rubs either side of the wall."

One eyebrow (the one now bisected by the slice of a scar) rises in silent commentary on this boast, which Gladio counts as a win, considering how tightly Ignis' hands are gripping his knees. "I'd hoped to get you off the market before word got out."

"You cornered my market years ago," Gladio says with a grin. He usually punctuates cheesy statements like that with a kiss, and he realizes too late that he's only got hard choices here. Does he try for a kiss, and risk Ignis flinching away? If he doesn't, will Ignis feel hurt and rejected? 

Over the years, he's learned that the best he can do in situations like this is to think _fuck it_ and go with his gut. Which means leaning in for a somewhat sideways and haphazard kiss. Ignis doesn't kiss back, but some of the tension seems to go out of him. One last tear escapes, and Gladio swipes it away quick.

*

They say their goodbyes to Unda before the evening meal. She gives them a packet of the tea, that Gladio tucks in the bag with their stuff, and directions to the shops where they can buy dark glasses to keep the sun out of Ignis' healing eyes and a walking cane. Ignis thanks her with grave formality and puts his hand on Gladio's arm to follow him out into the street.

They don't get further than the next block before Ignis stops and says, "Maybe I should stay here. I don't want – I won't be a liability."

Gladio turns, pulling them to a side alley, out of foot traffic. He sighs loudly, trying to be irritating (a trick he learned from Noct). "So that's it, Ardyn wins? He wanted this to break you."

"I'll send him my congratulations, then," Ignis says. Gladio hates hearing him so bitter.

"Congratulate him with a knife through the heart," he counters.

Ignis cocks his head, staring in Gladio's direction. There's a challenge in his expression that feels pivotal, as if he's at a crossroads and giving Gladio one chance to stick with him. "Teach me to fight like this."

And yeah, Gladio walked right into that, didn't he? Either Ignis is useful or useless; either he keeps up or gets left behind. All the love he has in his heart for this man isn't going to change this.

The only knife Gladio's got on him is his hunting knife, but he unsnaps the sheath and slides it out. "Here," he says, "give me your hand."

Ignis obeys – thank fuck at the very least their trust in each other is solid – and Gladio presses the hilt into his palm.

"I have my own weapons," Ignis says in mild reproof, but he's adjusting his grip, getting a sense for balance and testing the blade. A stranger wouldn't be able to read his expression, but to Gladio he looks relieved.

"It's fucking symbolic, stop judging me for my knife choices." The corner of Ignis' mouth twitches, but it's the closest to a smile Gladio's seen on his face in far too long. "If I think you're a liability, I'll tell you. And knowing you, you'll tell me to fuck off." He takes a deep breath and lets it out in a huff. "You know your own worth."

The knife spins in Ignis' hand, light dancing off the blade. "I'm sorry. We should go. I've already kept us away from Noct too long."

"He's still off in la-la land. It's Prompto I worry about. He's never been in charge for this long."

"Well, then, it's good for him to learn. And the royal suite of the Leville isn't the worst place to be."

"Least until the bill comes due." Gladio has no idea how Prompto plans to pay. IOU on the crown jewels, maybe?

Ignis snorts. "You probably know this, but I'm completely terrified."

"Makes sense."

Ignis twirls the knife again, and Gladio has to swallow down a warning to be careful.

"I want you to tell the others what happened. Ardyn is probably counting on me being either too dead or too ruined to talk, and you know he'd enjoy bragging about what he did to goad Noct into behaving... like his puppet, on a string."

Gladio doesn't want to have that conversation at all, ever, but Ignis is right. He can imagine Ardyn gloating – _Did your friend tell you about the time I fucked him blind?_ – and Noct's inevitable unthinking rage. "I can do that." He starts to reach out, then thinks better of it and makes a point of _telling_ Ignis he's going to touch him. Iris would never let him live it down if he got stabbed with his own knife. Ignis freezes a moment, but when Gladio's hand settles on his shoulder he nods once sharply. "I still fucking love you, you know that, right?"

"I think," Ignis says, with slow deliberation, "I can be His Majesty's adviser until he fulfills his destiny. With your help, I may be able to serve the Crownsguard without being too much of an embarrassment. But I cannot be more. Not now."

"So you're gonna repress what happened?" Gladio asks. He sounds mean to his own ears, but it's that or cry again, and he's done crying.

"Oh yes. As hard as I possibly can." Ignis smiles, but it's thin-lipped and humorless. "If we both survive – if the Six are merciful, which I have strong doubts about – I want... you have no idea how much I want."

"But for now, the mission."

"Be patient with Noctis," Ignis warns, with that unnatural smoothness that Gladio thinks of as his working voice.

"Like fuck I will." He tugs Ignis closer, so they bump shoulders. "He'd worry I got hit in the head or something." He doesn't think he imagines that Ignis leans into the touch, taking whatever strength or comfort he needs. If that's what Gladio can give, he's here for that. "I've got your back."

"You've got all of me," Ignis corrects, managing to sound romantic and irritated at the same time. He hands Gladio his knife back. "I'm ready. Let's go."

"Try and keep up," Gladio says, and leads them back out onto the road.


End file.
